


Loudwater

by HASA_Archivist



Series: The Dûnhebaid Cycle, by Adaneth [8]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon - Enhances original, General, War of the Ring, Writing - Clear prose, Writing - Engaging style, Writing - Every word counts, Writing - Evocative, Writing - Well-handled PoV(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 97
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3782479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very different perspective on the Flight across the Ford.  A birthday drabble for Imhiriel. MEFA 2008: Third Place in Late Third Age: General Fixed-Length Ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loudwater

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Drift of rain or drift of snow; trickling down rock, seeping through stone . . . welling as springs into sunlight.  Babble over boulders long-rounded by my passage--placid in pools where trout lurk, sharp-eyed for prey--the rushing fall over ledges stubborn to last, steps down towards rushy swan-pools.  Far, far to go, carrying news of the land to the Sea.

The Master's foreboding clots and clogs my current.  Neat hooves cleave me at the Ford--then foul, foundered feet of black nags.  White-maned waves scour my bed clean of their touch, preserving the haven of the Mariner's son.


End file.
